Damned number 11!
by Fekete
Summary: Lovino kissed an Antonio today. However, it was not Spain, but that damned number 11. Antonio is not amused. crack!fic, based on Euro 2012's Spain vs Italy; Spamano. Sorry for failed summary...


**Fandom**: Hetalia

**Pairing**: Spamano/Spain x S. Italy/Spain x Romano/Antonio x Lovino

**Warnings**: BL, boy x boy, gay kissing, swearing, Euro 2012 Spain vs Italy references, possible slight OCCness, there might be some grammar mistakes, possible fail!attempts in Spanish and Italian, crack!fic

**Disclaimer**: I do **not** own Hetalia, football players or Euro 2012, no matter how much I'd love to ;A;

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_'Dear Diary! _

_I am so sorry that I haven't written in you for so long! It's because Gil and Franny kept coming over or we went out and I had no time. I'm really, really sorry. Today I am feeling really lonely. Lovi left me! Let me explain!_

_As you know, mi querido diario, Euro 2012 has started this Friday… and the first opponents I had to face were Lovinito and Feli! I didn't want to fight them, but I had to. Boss' orders. So listen! Listen! Lovi got so fired up about this match that he hadn't come over for a month! I've been so lonely! He was always hanging with Feli and his football team. And that's exactly what I wanted to talk with you about! Lovi's team! But, I'll get there later!_

_Well listen! Me and Lovi met during matches yesterday and the day before, because we all gathered to watch. Of course when our teams were playing, we, as nations, had to go down and be with them, so during the very first match Feliks and Heracles weren't with us. But it's not really about them. You know, I sat next to mi Lovinito but he changed sits with Francis and sat next to Eyebrows instead! Can you believe it? And they started chatting! What worried me most was the topic they were discussing! Lovi was talking so happily! I…." _

Antonio stopped writing, too busy with the thoughts corrupting his mind. Now that he thought about it…

**FLASHBACK **

_'"We're winning this year" Lovino said with a smirk, Feliciano nodding happily from his sit next to Ludwig. "Our team this year's good. Real good. Tomato bastard, your ex-brother and Croatian bastard are going down" Feliciano nodded yet again, saying something to his boyfriend with the speed of light. Poor Germany could only nod weakly as he was trying to concentrate on the match._

_ "Don't be too full of yourself, git. My team's gloriously good too this year. Stupid frog will most definitely go down during first five minutes" next to Spain, France _started_ yelling loudly and cursing at his English… friend (?)… at his English friend/enemy/lover (?). Antonio would probably try to calm him down, but he was too focused on his boyfriend that wouldn't even look at him, and who shared laughs with that stupid Eyebrows. _

_"Well, yeah, maybe, but our guys are brilliant. Oh, but if 11 or 9 scores and 1 won't let the stupid Spaniards score, I'll fucking kiss either of them" Lovino smirked, not noticing Antonio's wide eyes. What was his Lovi talking about? Who was 11 or 9 in his team? Did they have any chances of scoring? But he calmed down. No way, his team was too strong'_

Spain gritted his teeth with anger before taking the pen and writing next words

"_I wasn't expecting 11, 9 or 1 to be good. I talked with Feliciano after that, but he'd only giggle and say that those four get along and that they spend a lot of time together even after practice would be over. To say I was pissed off would be understatement. Mi Lovinito, mi amor preferred spending time with his football team more than with me. Oh how hurt I felt! But I still wasn't really worried, because there was no way that either 11 or 9 would score or that their goalkeeper would keep all of my team's ball's from falling in so there was no way Lovi would need to kiss any of them. I was pretty sure that we would win this match, but don't tell Lovi, or he'll definitely stop hanging out with me. This time I don't need to beat Germany, well not **yet**, and if I don't need to beat Germany, forgiveness for winning would probably come much later. That would mean at least two weeks of avoiding me again. The cold treatment is just awful, I tell you. Mi querido diario, can you understand the fact that it's been more than a month since I've last made love to Lovinito? A month since I've kissed him even! I really like kissing Lovi, so not kissing him feels so bad! I really DO want to kiss Lovi right now, but he's out with his team. Well you might wonder why I want to kiss him so bad. You see, Lovinito kissed an Antonio today. However, it was a fucking number 11! Can you believe it? I will tell you! _

_It was around the 55th minute when that eleven bastard came in. Before he entered, however, Lovinito patted his shoulder lovingly! Ok, maybe not lovingly, but it does not change the fact that he patted that bastard's shoulder. His name was Antonio Di Natale. Yes. I know. I KNOW! Lovi chose a different Antonio, I have no idea…"_

He stopped writing again, as his anger prevented him from writing something that would make sense. He gritted his teeth, remembering **_HIS_** boyfriend's cute smile directed at someone else. Lovi seldom smiled, but when he did, it was usually at HIM, Feli, Methun… or whoever it was, Arthur and pretty girls. But he pretty much NEVER smiled for guys. No, not Lovi. And yet… and yet…

**_FLASHBACK _**

_"CHANGE FOR ITALY!" Antonio looked up from his sit next to couch, only to see the infamous number 11 waiting to come onto the field. Next to him stood Romano, smirking slightly as he pointed at something. Soon after Balotelli came running, ready to get off the field. Lovino patted Di Natale with a smile on his face, looking more than slightly amused. Spain felt his eye twitch as the other Antonio's hand brushed against **his** Romanito's one. And then he came running on the field, looking stupidly happy. Antonio grumbled something next to the couch, glad that at least that weird looking nine got off of the field without scoring. _

_Spain's eyes carefully watched the match, though they often fell on Lovino and Feliciano, Marcello deciding to sit somewhere else. The younger Vargas brother chatted happily with Balotelli, however Romano's beautiful eyes were focused on the ball. But, for one amazing moment, he looked up and his orbs locked with Antonio's. The Spaniard smiled at him, but Lovino quickly turned away. Spain felt himself frown, but said nothing and instead looked at the match._

_Five minutes. I took number 11 five minutes to score against Spanish team. Antonio looked with horror at the name flashing before his eyes, an awful 'Di Natale' looking at him. His green eyes looked up at Lovino with horror and his breath hitched. Both Italian brothers quickly ran to their team and joined the group hug, all of them yelling something in Italian. Right when the match was supposed to begin once again, Lovi's full lips pecked number 11 in the cheek. Antonio laughed and saluted, running off to the field. However Spain could care less. His heart just broke. Lovi DID kiss that bastard. He felt anger rising in him and he knew that his possessiveness would show after match. And Lovi would pay. Antonio wanted his boyfriend to scream his name, his nation and human name both. And he wanted Lovino to scream that a lot. _

_Fàbregas scored a point three minutes after Italian team and Carriedo yelled with joy, hugging his coach, who smiled. Antonio risked looking up and was pleasantly surprised to see Lovino glaring at him. He waved happily, but all he got was a birdie. He laughed it off, but his laughter died on his lips as Balotelli's arm dropped around Lovino. He wanted to kill that bastard and **now**. _

_The match finished with a draw, neither team scoring anymore, though there were some chances for both the Italians and the Spaniards. Lovino, Feliciano and Marcello disappeared right after the final blow. However it didn't stop Antonio from calling him. And thank God, he picked up._

_"What do you want, tomato bastard?" Spain winced at the harsh voice_

_"Aww, don't be like that, Lovi! We've just finished a great match, sí? We should celebrate together! And we haven't really spend time with each other for a whole month..." there was a slight pause on the other side, before Lovino's slightly guilty voice spoke once again. _

_"I'm with my team and brothers" Antonio felt irritation rise in him again._

_"Is your team that important?" _

_"What the fuck? Of course it is, you bastard! We'd probably win, but your team's just too fucking weird and-" his voice stopped for a moment, which made it easy for Spain to hear some voices in Italian. Lovi soon answered in his mother tongue, slight irritation in his voice. _

_"So Lovi, you'd rather be with your Antonio sí?" _

_"What the hell? Why are you mad, tomato bastard?"_

_"Answer me. Number 11. He's with you too, isn't he?" _

_"Of fucking course he is! He scored the fucking goal you id-"_

_"Well then have fun kissing him! Buenas noches, Romano!" Antonio was surprised at his own cold voice but he disconnected before his (ex-?) boyfriend could say something more' _

Now that Antonio thought about it, maybe he was slightly too harsh. No wonder Lovi turned off his phone. Spain sighed, hitting his head against the desk. He missed Lovino. He missed Lovino so much. His voice, his frowns, his smiles, his eyes, his kisses, his hugs, his cute blush, his lovely moans, him. He missed Lovino's love.

"Oy bastard! Open up!" his eyes fluttered open and his heart skipped a beat. Eh? "OPEN THE FUCK UP BEFORE I KICK THE DOORS OPEN, DAMMIT!" Antonio slowly made his way to his hotel room's doors, opening it to reveal his lover, who was blushing adorably.

"Eh? L-Lovi? What are yo-" his words were cut off with a rough kiss from his lover. Lovino's lips attacked his hungrily, as if they were desperate to taste the Spaniard as much as possible. Antonio didn't waste time to respond, pulling his cute Italian even closer to him, his hand sliding down Romano's back.

"Que travieso Antonio!" the two quickly jumped apart, both of their head's snapping to look at Torres and Silva, both Spaniards clearly having fun.

"Hay demasiado amar en el aire esta noche entre vosotros, get a room" Torres said in a sing-song voice. Antonio gave them a look as his lover hid his red face in his chest. Football players only smirked and before they could say something more, Spain quickly pulled Lovino to his room. He couldn't care less about the 'whoo's and 'aahh's. The two of them stood there awkwardly for a second, before their eyes met. They stared at each other for a second and then Antonio started giggling, Lovino following soon after.

"Sei proprio un idiota, pomodoro bastardo"

"Y que me hace un idiota, mi amor?" Spain whispered huskily in his boyfriend's ear. Lovino rolled his eyes, his face flushing.

"You got stupidly jealous again. Idiot"

"Well you kissed that stupid number eleven!" Romano scowled, annoyed look crossing his face again.

"When we went drinking, fucking bastards said that if they score, they want me to kiss them on the cheek. I was drunk as hell so I stupidly agreed, fucking bastards. And stupid Feliciano recorded it so they had proof, dammit. How was I supposed to know these fuckers would score, dammit?" Antonio stared at him before laughing happily. Thank God. _Thank God_.

"But you looked really happy talking with them"

"Can't I get along with two fucking bastards from my own fucking team?" he grumbled, before adding quietly "'sides they're not my type" Antonio grinned, touching their foreheads together.

"And who might be your type, hmm, mi amor?" younger boy blushed again, hitting his forehead against his Spanish lover

"Vaffanculo!"

"I'd love to, though I prefer to call it love making" Spain laughed when he felt a half-hearted punch in the arm. Older boy closed his eyes and leant down, capturing Lovino's lips in sweet, loving kiss. Vargas was being really cute and cooperative today. Not that he minded, not at all. It just made him wonder if, maybe, perhaps, Lovi missed him too.

"Te amo" he whispered breathlessly, sucking on Lovino's neck. A lovely moan escaped his love's mouth, the sound he's missed so much.

"Anch'io ti amo, Toni" the nickname did it. Antonio let his lust take control as he guided half naked Lovino to bed. And so, take that, Di Natale. Take that.

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

TRANSLATIONS:

mi querido diario – Sp. 'my dear diary'

Que travieso Antonio! – Sp. 'How naughty, Antonio!'

Hay demasiado amar en el aire esta noche entre vosotros, get a room – Sp. 'Too much love in the air tonight with you, get a room'

Sei proprio un idiota, pomodoro bastardo – It. 'You're an idiot, tomato bastard'

Y que me hace un idiota, mi amor? – Sp. 'And what makes me an idiot, my love?'

Vaffanculo – It. 'Fuck you'

Te amo – Sp. 'I love you'

Anch'io ti amo, Toni' – It. 'I love you too, Toni'

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**Thank you _Alexia-Esco_ for Spanish corrections :3**

**A/N: Guys, I was so excited during that match. I was laughing so hard when a friggin Antonio scored for Italy, hahaha. I just kinda couldn't get this out of my head and had to publish it. Sorry if it sucks. I lost passion somewhere in the middle, because I got all excited about England vs France OTL. Well, anyway, here you go.**

**I was really looking forward to some Spamano fics after Euro, but got none D: . So I've decided to write… this… something. Again, sorry if it sucks. Well anyway I hope you guys enjoy Euro as much as I do, haha ;D. Ciao~**


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